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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142852">requiem for a god</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>deification [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Deviates From Canon, Gen, Ghost Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Platonic Relationships, SPECIFIC CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE NOTES OF EACH CHAPTER</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:13:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>**HIGH-KEY ABANDONED**</p><p>Sapnap was left speechless, held in place by the millions of emotions flooding his brain. His heart sunk, emptiness carving a space between his lungs. Dream didn’t just… die.</p><p>He still remembered their first days on the SMP, fishing and mining and building the Community House together. Simpler times, sun-soaked memories that pre-dated their netherite-geared wars. Times when Dream had been their friend. Sacred times, now lost forever, buried beneath burning fury and shattered ties.</p><p>-<br/>Dream is dead, and Sapnap has mixed emotions about the person he once called his best friend. A direct continuation of "hate me when i'm dead," I highly encourage you read that before jumping into this one.</p><p>**HIGH-KEY ABANDONED**</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>deification [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the villain has fallen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>trigger warnings in notes of each chapter as they apply.</b>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sapnap remembers exactly where he was when the message flashed across his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dream froze to death. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sun had fallen an hour or so ago. He’d been in El Rapids with Quackity, Karl and George, as they’d just finished rebuilding the land and were starting to rebuild their house. George had just got back from getting more wood, with plans to build an entire town on the floating dirt structure.</p><p> </p><p>In a matter of seconds, the entire server fell quiet. Reading and rereading the death message: <em> Dream froze to death. </em></p><p> </p><p>Sapnap was left speechless, held in place by the millions of emotions flooding his brain. His heart sunk, emptiness carving a space between his lungs. Dream didn’t just… <em> die. </em></p><p> </p><p>Why did he feel so hollow after his death? He deserved it. He deserved death and more for everything he’d put them all through. But looking to his side, at George still staring at the message, he almost felt sorry for the green bastard that he once called his friend. For the people he’d used and thrown away like tissues whenever it pleased him. </p><p> </p><p>He still remembered their first days on the SMP, fishing and mining and building the Community House together. Simpler times, sun-soaked memories that pre-dated their netherite-geared wars. Times when Dream had been their friend. Sacred times, now lost forever, buried beneath burning fury and shattered ties.</p><p> </p><p>He felt George nestle against his hoodie, and he stretched an arm over his friend’s shoulder to pull him closer. He knew George didn’t fully get it, he was constantly traveling and never around when the worst of it happened. At the same time, perhaps he’d witnessed the worst of the worst, crowned and dethroned within a week for what? His safety?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I did it because I care, George. You could’ve gotten hurt. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>George’s quiet, muffled sobs broke his heart, and all Sapnap could do was shield his broken friend from prying eyes. He gently guided George into the half-built house, letting go of him for a moment to search for a chair he could sit on. In the time it took to find one, his best friend had… <em> left?! </em></p><p> </p><p>Panic flooded Sapnap’s blood, eyes wildly flitting over the empty building. “George, what the fuck? Where’d you go-?” Gaze latched onto the sight of his friend full-on sprinting down the slope, leaving Quackity and Karl to stare and yell after him. </p><p> </p><p>Sapnap followed. </p><p> </p><p>“George, where are you going?” Quackity called, to which he quickly followed up, “Sapnap, what the fuck is going on?!”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap didn’t know how to feel about his once best friend dying, but he did know that George could end up hurting himself if nobody went with him, so he threw an ender pearl to make up ground he’d lost by standing in shock. Quackity and Karl would get their explanations later. George needed him <em> now</em>. </p><p> </p><p>When Dream wasn’t respawned in his bed, he followed George to the spawn chunks<span>—</span>perhaps someone had broken his bed and replaced it before Dream could sleep in it again? It was a hopeful thought Sap was willing to entertain if it meant George would stay on his feet for a few minutes longer. When no one was there, he could see the last of best friend’s hope deflating, being replaced with grief.</p><p> </p><p>George’s wails and sobs shook the entire server to its core. </p><p> </p><p>Sapnap could barely bring himself to watch as his best friend doubled over onto the ground, arms wrapped around himself, shaking and crying in a way he’d never seen anyone do before. Filled with such raw, uncut <em> pain</em>, a barely contained tsunami that flooded over and pinned his best friend to the earth. Choking sobs that slashed against his hollow chest like whips, bringing bubbling heat up his throat as tears threatened to spill over the sight of the crumpled man in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“George, c’mon, it’s ok-” he began, only to be quickly cut off.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not ok! He’s fucking <em> dead!” </em> George’s voice was broken, dripping with such immense <em> hurt </em>that it took him aback.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Sap wasn’t sure what to do. How did you even go about <em> consoling </em> such a broken person? Consoling himself? Their best friend of years just died out of nowhere after leaving them to rot. Well… if nothing else works, return to the basics. With a sigh, he lowered himself to the ground and pulled George into a hug, letting him sob into his shoulder. George immediately pulled him closer, throwing both arms around his back, reaching for any sort of comfort from the only person he had left now.</p><p> </p><p>The cracks in his heart spread as he held George, letting him crumple his hoodie beneath his armor. He knew George didn’t know the full story, he didn’t see the Dream that he had come to know: The bloodthirsty, power-hungry god he’d made himself out to be. His friends were nothing more than accessories to war, reasons to start fights, people that had to stand by his side no matter what he did to them. Despite being at ground zero for all of it, Sapnap didn’t fully believe that Dream had been all that bad<span>—</span>but maybe that was the summer talking, remembering the Dream he used to be and not the <em> nightmare </em>he’d become.</p><p> </p><p>Stoked on by his friend’s heartbroken sobs, he let his own tears fall. He wrapped his arms around the other, one hand in his hair and the other under his shoulders. He held George as they both cried, pain crushing their hearts and any hopes they had of reconciling their broken friendship with the now-dead Dream. </p><p> </p><p>Server members with half a sense of decency left the two alone.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like hours of sitting in the woods, holding each other and bawling until their tears ran dry, the air once again grew quiet, save for odd sniffles. It was peaceful, the sort of mutual agreement to sit still and bathe in the comfort of silence. Sapnap was the one who broke the quiet with a half-hearted chuckle. George pulled away from their embrace, eyebrows quirked in confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap, what’s so funny?” He asked hoarsely, to which he could only give further broken laughter.</p><p> </p><p>After a moment, George gave in to the invitation to laugh. Weak at first, but eventually exploding into shattered fits of laughter that were barely different from sobs. A hand reached up to wipe at the tear tracks under his glasses, and the crushing grief of it all was turned into the only thing either of them knew how to handle: A joke. A fleeting feeling that they could just laugh off, and when they woke up tomorrow it’d hold no weight over them.</p><p> </p><p>“Ain’t it hilarious that he died the <em> second </em> we had finished rebuilding?” Sapnap offered between fits of laughter and sniffles.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah I guess.” </p><p> </p><p>“You popped off with the sobbing, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap’s remark coaxed another, honestly earned fit of laughter from his best friend. “What the fuck kind of compliment is <em> that?! </em>” George snapped back, raining down a series of half-hearted punches that did nothing against his armor.</p><p> </p><p>A smile spread over his face. “What, you want me to explain the joke?” At George’s continued hits, a small chuckle fell from his lips. “Ok, ok, fine! You made <em> me </em> cry, too.”</p><p> </p><p>George leaned back into a more comfortable sitting position, and Sapnap followed, settling into a criss-cross position where George preferred to lean onto his hands behind him with his legs stretched out. </p><p> </p><p>“You mean you wouldn’t have cried?” His words were a raised stinger<span>—</span>one wrong word, and the carefully crafted house of cards that was his best friend’s stability at the moment would come crashing down again.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap stared back blankly, gears turning in his head as he picked at the grass. A glance was given to his own snot trails down the front of George’s chestplate, something he was certain was mirrored on his own and worsened by the enchanted glow. <em> Would he </em> have cried? Dream had been an awful person, no doubt about that. He’d treated him like shit in their final days together, like nothing more than a toy to be played with whenever it was convenient. Yet… he knew he’d still go back to him. He’d run back to Dream in a heartbeat if it meant they got to share one more laugh, one more stupid joke together. The idea threatened more tears, so he dropped it with a simple, “I don’t know, man.”</p><p> </p><p>Gaze aimed to meet George’s. It was during these quiet moments, away from everyone else, that they seemed most comfortable with each other, with looking each other in the eyes. A hand reached to take his friend’s glasses, a gesture that wasn’t pushed away for once. He liked seeing George’s eyes, and wished now more than ever that he could see <em> through </em> them, to see what he saw, to feel how he felt. To know if he would truly grieve Dream, or if this was all just shock to him. He held the glasses up to his eyes<span>—</span>the lenses were filthy, covered in tear stains, plus being smudged and scratched from everyday wear. As he physically put them on, he heard his friend laugh again.</p><p> </p><p>“They always look so stupid on you.” He heard a small click, the sound of a picture being taken, and groaned.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon man, that’s rude! I don’t do that when you wear my headband.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you <em> so </em> do, you’ve sent me every photo. Do you want me to pull out the evidence?”</p><p> </p><p>“Go on, do it, there isn’t any.”</p><p> </p><p>Several hours passed, late night turning to early morning as the two shared light-hearted jokes and quick-witted retorts. They shared their favorite rose-tinted stories and memories of the early summer, before they were forced to fight in wars that weren’t theirs. When the sun came up, they helped each other to their feet. Sapnap’s initial attempt to stand failed and landed him back onto the ground, legs unable to hold his weight after sitting in the grass for countless hours. He was glad that George was happy to let him lean on him and walk them both to the nearest beach to clean the snot off their armor<span>—</span>gods forbid people thought they were <em> upset </em> over the death of the server’s greatest antagonist.</p><p> </p><p>Upon reaching the beach, both unequipped their chestplates and leaned down to start cleaning them.</p><p> </p><p>“So, do you think we should hold a memorial?” Sapnap eventually asked, hesitantly testing the waters. It had to be asked eventually, the surface tension had to be broken, they both knew that. It’d just been a matter of who threw the proverbial stone, and it was better Sapnap than anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>George paused, letting his chestplate sink into the saltwater as he thought, ripples spiraling out from where the question had landed. “I don’t know,” he eventually replied, “I mean, nobody besides us really liked him, did they?”</p><p> </p><p>The heartbroken realization in his friend’s voice shattered him again. The rock sunk straight into the deepest abyss of the ocean. <em> Nobody really liked him, did they? </em> He quickly averted his gaze from George’s, eyes solidly focused on a salmon swimming by. He knew the answer, and he was sure George did too. “Well… We can do it for ourselves.”</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the time they spent together went by in peaceful silence. Hours of sobbing and laughing stood behind them as they made their way back through the woods towards the path that would take them to the Community House. Maybe they could find some relic of better times to hang up, for people to remember the Dream that they had known. The one who acted as middle-man to their fights and drove boats in circles because he knew it’d piss them off. Above all, he’d given anything to never hear George <em> wail </em>like that again.</p><p> </p><p>They’d gotten as far as the spawn chunks again when they heard a weak, but familiar, “Hello?” that stopped them both in their tracks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. or has he?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quick clarification before you start, this chapter runs parallel to the previous one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Dream knew nothing, he at least knew that he didn’t like watching people cry.</p><p> </p><p>He’d woken up not long after sunset amidst spruce trees. It felt vaguely familiar, as if he’d just been there, except… not. Not here, at least, but someplace similar. It’d been snowy, and he’d been so sad and so tired. He’d tripped and fallen, found refuge under a tree, and then here he was.</p><p> </p><p>Was he dead?</p><p> </p><p>A glance was cast around the empty clearing. He had to be. How else could he wake up here? He’d woken up in strange places with no explanation before, though, he knew that much.</p><p> </p><p>His existentialism was cut short by the sound of rapid, heavy footsteps, a sound so ominous he immediately ducked behind a tree without waiting to see the owners of such heavy steps.</p><p> </p><p>The next thing he heard was an ungodly, broken wail.</p><p> </p><p>The wail of someone who’d just lost a piece of their everything.</p><p> </p><p>Hands flew up to cover his ears, shielding himself from and muffling the horrible sound. Even a ghast’s cries were more bearable than this: a shattered sound, full of pain and grief and betrayal. </p><p> </p><p>“George, c’mon, it’s ok-” he heard a voice say, only for another to swiftly cut them off.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not ok! He’s fucking <em> dead!” </em> Their voice was broken, dripping with an immense <em> hurt </em>that tapped into some vague, blank spot within his heart.</p><p> </p><p>After a few minutes of listening to the heartbroken cries, his curiosity got the better of him, and the ghost gently peeked an eye out from behind the tree. Gaze landed on a sight he felt the distinct urge to be part of: Two men, fully armored, huddled together on the grass. One in a blue t-shirt, the other with a white hoodie. The blue t-shirt wearer had their face buried into the hoodie wearer’s shoulder, presumably the one crying his eyes out. He continued to watch as, after a few minutes, the hoodie wearer wrapped his arms around the other’s back and cried himself.</p><p> </p><p>Interesting.</p><p> </p><p>A part of him that was deeper than his shallow memories reached told him he knew these two. They’d been important. Important enough that even as a ghost, their silhouettes were burned into the back of his eyelids, as if using their bodies as shields against the direct stare of the sun. But he just <em> couldn’t place </em> who they were. </p><p> </p><p>Deciding it was a dead-end to watch two not-so-strange strangers bawl their eyes out, Dream turned and started to wander further into the forest. He didn’t like watching them, anyway. Maybe he’d find an answer further out, to who they were. Who<em> he’d</em> been to them that spawned such immense heartache now that, he assumed, he was gone.</p><p> </p><p>Cold steps guided him towards a worn wooden path, its planks clearly aged through months<span>—</span>years?<span>—</span>of use. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t notice the frost his feet left in his wake.</p><p> </p><p>Dream hadn’t gotten far before he saw another figure barrelling down the path, emitting bright shrieks of joy. A mucher taller figure followed close behind, and he had the distinct feeling he wasn’t welcome. He backtracked and began back towards the forest, but their words still floated down to him:</p><p> </p><p>“-boo, we’re free! We can bring Tommy back! He’s gone!”</p><p> </p><p>They made him feel sick.</p><p> </p><p>And inexplicably <em> furious </em>.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The forest felt welcoming, warm even. It was comfortable. It was <em> safe. </em> Safe from prying eyes, safe from anyone who might randomly appear and scare the shit out of him. </p><p> </p><p>Or so he thought.</p><p> </p><p>When the ghost had arrived back where he’d woken up, the two were still there, tears dried up and gone, replaced with stories that sparked joy in his chest. He quickly found refuge in a tree, looking down and listening. They sounded so happy, if still tainted by the dark reality that was, quite literally, hanging over them. They shared warm stories with… him in them?</p><p> </p><p>Was he part of them? Was that why they’d been crying, they lost a part of themselves in him? It sounded right, felt right in his chest. Yes, yes he was part of them, the missing leg to help the stool stand.</p><p> </p><p>The tale that drew his attention most was one of some playful battle: Dream (him, apparently) had been decorating a building they called the “Community House” while they shot at each other. He’d apparently tried to step in, only for an arrow to land on him, which he’d replied to with fatherly disappointment. He struggled to hold back laughter as they recounted the tale, and he wished he could remember it for himself.</p><p> </p><p>As the sun rose, so did the two from their sitting place in the grass. He was beginning to follow, to climb along through the trees, when-</p><p> </p><p><em> Pain. Pain pain pain painpainpainpain, burning searing </em> <b> <em>blinding</em> </b> <em> pain- </em></p><p> </p><p>Dream muffled a shocked yelp, retracting back into the tree’s shade. His breath hitched as he clutched his arm to his chest, the hoodie sleeve still hot to the touch. What… what the absolute <em> fuck </em> was that?</p><p> </p><p>Once his breathing steadied, he reached a single, experimental hand back out, retracting near instantly as the sensation of touching a furnace’s flame flew across his nerves as soon as the sun hit it. </p><p> </p><p>Well. Shit. That complicated things.</p><p> </p><p>If he couldn’t follow his supposed friends, was he expected to just wait there like some pathetic dog?</p><p> </p><p>Because that was exactly what he was going to do.</p><p> </p><p>Once the two had disappeared from earshot and eyesight, he carefully dropped down into the clearing. As the sun grew higher in the sky, his shelter of shades retreated and warped around the trees, leading to him awkwardly sitting with his knees to his chest and the bark biting into his back<span>—</span>the posture made him uncomfortable, he wasn’t sure why.</p><p> </p><p>Hours must've passed before the familiar strangers appeared again, walking the same way he had when the moon was still out. This was his shot. He jumped to his feet and awkwardly tried to place himself in front of them with a gentle warning of:</p><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. blind rage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS: panic attack/sensory overload, self harm.</b> this is a heavy chapter. drink water, make sure you eat today, grab a stuffed animal if you want. take care of yourself, readers!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Welp. Quackity and Karl’s explanation just got a <em> lot </em>more complicated.</p><p> </p><p>Dream was standing in front of him. Dream. <em> A dead man. </em> An arm instinctively went in front of George, using his body to separate the two. What in the world? <em> How </em> in the world? When did a being as horrible and irredeemable as Dream get the <em> privilege </em> of returning to the server as a ghost?</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap barely had time to launch a single of the two million questions firing off and multiplying within his skull before the semi-translucent Dream continued, “Hi, hi. Um. I’m-”</p><p> </p><p>“I know who you are, dipshit, how’re you <em> here?” </em> he snapped, cutting him off before he could get out a sentence. Dream didn’t <em> deserve </em> a single sentence, dead or alive.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap didn’t need to see behind Dream’s mask to know he was scared. After years spent alongside him, he’d learned to read every slight shift in position, every different head tilt, every way he could shuffle his feet as indicators of what was turning in that clever brain of his. Today, the ghost of his former best friend stood with his arms limp at his sides, fingers weakly splayed, his head tilted down a few degrees lower than it took to look him in the eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m dead.” He replied weakly. <em> No-fucking-duh. </em></p><p> </p><p>He had witnessed it firsthand, Dream’s descent into insanity. Like a vampire, he’d gotten one taste of blood and craved <em> more </em>. Yet the ghostly figure standing in front of him just looked afraid<span>—</span>not the wild, cornered animal fear he recognized at a glance, but a sad, resigned fear.</p><p> </p><p>But pity wasn’t an emotion he could afford to direct to the man he once called his best friend. He had <em> so much </em> to answer for. “Yeah yeah, I figured that much from the whole ‘I can kinda see through you’ and ‘Your death message made the entire server go quiet earlier’ things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I explain myself?-”<br/><br/></p><p>“No, you don’t <em> get </em> an explanation. Not after what you just fucking pulled. Not after everything you did to <em> me, </em> to <em> George, </em> and <em> especially </em> to Tommy.” Before he could consider anything else, Sapnap let every angry, vile, <em> burning </em> thought spill from his mouth. “You betrayed everyone! You left me and George to fucking rot, said you never even <em> cared </em> about us! We followed you because you were our <em> friend, </em> Dream, and you just- you just <em> used us! </em> How-fucking-could you?!</p><p> </p><p>“And- and how dare you have the <em> audacity </em> to come back as a fucking <em> ghost, </em> as some stupid see-through <em> bitch </em> with the <em> audacity </em> to try and say ‘hi’ all innocent and stuff. No, Dream, you can’t explain yourself. There’s nothing to fucking explain.”</p><p> </p><p>He was about to turn, to grab George by the shoulders and steer him directly around the ghost, when he looked forward at the man he’d just berated. Not just recognize him at a glance, but <em> look </em> at him, up and down. There was a crack at the top of his mask, a piece chipped out that seemed to be the source of a blood trail that ended on his neck. His trademark green hoodie was washed out, almost cyan. If he focused he could <em> swear </em> he saw the remnants of snow in the blond’s tied up hair and dusted across his shaking shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t just his shoulders<span>—</span>Dream’s whole <em> body </em>was shaking, shivering, arms holding each other as he looked down, almost through him. Sap fixed his gaze on the mask, the spot beneath the drawn-on eyes that he knew Dream’s real eyes hid behind. Those sly green eyes that he hadn’t seen since late September, since he lost his best friend to the demons living in his head.</p><p> </p><p>He heard George sniff behind him. Oh good lord, <em> what had he just done. </em></p><p> </p><p>He didn’t realize the weight of his mistake until he heard Dream’s ghost sob, followed by a blood-curdling, inhuman <em> shriek </em> piercing the air.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Dream was going to need to keep a running list of things he didn’t like at this point. So far, he had, “watching people cry” and, “getting yelled at by a stranger for things I didn’t know I did” as definite additions. “Getting burnt by the sun” was part of a parallel list, things that caused him harm for no reason.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong until apparently he had. These two had talked about him so fondly, so surely they would have wanted to see him, to know he was still around… right? He’d been their friend, the third that made them whole, so why didn’t they want to see him? Why didn’t the hoodie-wearer like him?</p><p> </p><p>The words he spewed were so vile, full of <em> disgust </em> and <em> hatred </em> that it physically hurt to try and look in his eyes. His fucking <em> eyes. </em> They roared with a wildfire of fury, of pain, of bigger-than-life emotions all swirling together into an unstoppable blaze. A blaze with its sights set on ruining the supposed source of it’s problems.</p><p> </p><p>When faced with such unwarranted hatred within twelve hours of waking, what else could he do but cry?</p><p> </p><p>He stood still, letting the fires rip at his chest, icy tears running down his cheeks. At one point, he hoarsely whimpered, <em> “Please shut up,” </em> but it was swallowed by and lost in the flames. By the time they stopped, a hollow was formed where heat melted ice, and the only thing he wanted to do was <em> hide. </em></p><p> </p><p>With nowhere to run, the next best thing was to allow himself to break.</p><p> </p><p>And so he did.</p><p> </p><p>The first crack was a weak sob that quickly fractured and spiralled out the longer the hoodie-wearer just <em> stared </em> at him, those fiery eyes locking onto his as though he knew <em> exactly </em>where to find them beneath his mask. </p><p> </p><p>And he screamed. </p><p> </p><p>An inhuman, piercing shriek that sent every passive creature running. His vision blurred and darkened, and suddenly he was on the ground, clutching his head and <em> screaming. </em> </p><p> </p><p><em> “What did I do? What did I do why are you </em> <b> <em>looking at me</em> </b> <em> , get the fuck away from me, </em> <b> <em>don’t touch me</em> </b> <em> you fucking </em> <b> <em>idiot</em> </b> <em> -!” </em></p><p> </p><p>A burning hand touched his back, and he immediately sat up from the ball he’d curled himself into to throw it off him. A hand wildly lashed out, dull nails looking to scratch at whatever they could grab, and they caught on something that quickly pulled away with an alarmed shout. The world was an oversaturated blur of red and orange, a deafening cry of sheer <em> noise </em> that bounced off every surface in his skull, and the only thing he could think to do was to <em> fight </em>.</p><p> </p><p>But fighting wasn’t enough, he couldn’t <em> find </em> anything in the blur to fight besides himself. He was all that was around, all he could process within his deafening bubble. He was exceedingly aware of everything around him yet processed nothing, and in his panic to grasp at something <em> real, </em> nails found his own arms<span>—</span>pain was a real enough concept.</p><p> </p><p>The same burning hands from before suddenly flew to grab his wrists, eliciting another inhuman shriek of <em> pain. </em> Voices were saying something, he didn’t care, he didn’t care he didn’t care <em> he didn’t care stop fucking </em> <b> <em>touching</em> </b> <em> him. </em></p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, the world went nearly black and white compared to what it had just been. His eyes stared blankly forward, breathing labored and his nerves still raw. His mask had been forcefully pulled off his head by the now-receding hoodie-wearing stranger. Eyes quickly switched to the person directly in front of him, his legs locked by some odd twist-grip they’d done around their own, their hands tightly gripped around his wrists holding them in opposite directions of his torso. Their eyes were obscured by big white sunglasses, and red scratch-marks were rising along their cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream, Dream are you there?” the glass-wearer cooed, “Dream?”</p><p> </p><p>A normal, human sob shook his chest. “Who the fuck <em> are you?” </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Who the fuck <em> are you? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Dream was surprised to be met with a smile<span>—</span>a sad smile that hid a thousand words, but a smile nonetheless. “George,” he replied, carefully starting to release Dream’s limbs. “And uh, the guy who yelled at you is Sapnap.” George looked over to his still-standing companion, a look of ‘<em> We’ll talk about this later </em>’ written on his face.</p><p> </p><p>He sat in silence, listening to himself breathe as he grasped for something, anything, to ground himself with. The other’s hand cupped his cheek, the heat of it comforting where it’d burned him before. He wanted to hold it, to wrap his own hands around it and press it further into his face, but the chance was removed as George pulled his own hand away, leaving a phantom memory of warmth where it had been.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream, you’re cold. Like, <em> really </em> cold.”</p><p> </p><p>Was he? All he could offer in response was a flat chuckle. “Well, uh, I’m dead. So.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but- nevermind, it’s nothing.” George comfortably sat back, and Sapnap handed him the mask. After quickly looking it over, he offered it to Dream.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t sound like it was nothing, but Dream accepted it with a shrug<span>—</span>the statement and mask alike. He looked over the drawn on smile staring back at him, running a hand across the surface. Smooth for the most part, aside from the missing piece up top. Fingers traced the edge of the crack, somehow dull despite the material being so akin to glass or clay that it should’ve shattered into dozens of sharp little pieces. The missing portion wasn’t very large, but the crack itself ran down from the top to the eye.</p><p> </p><p>What did he even need the mask for? What secrets did he have to hide in his face? He sighed, resettling himself to sit criss-cross. He hadn’t noticed George stood up until he heard the two strangers talking across the clearing from him, their voices barely audible.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we take him to Ghostbur? Could he help him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, man, I don’t think they’re the same type of ghost. Did you <em> see </em> what he just did? He just screamed then the whole area was cold, like frost and everything-”</p><p> </p><p>He tuned them out, eyes defocusing. He stared vaguely upwards<span>—</span>clouds had covered the sun, and he wondered if he would be able to walk around freely. It was still daylight, but if he was safe under the shade, then he was safe under clouds, right? Was that even a thing?</p><p> </p><p>He gently placed his mask down in front of him, fighting the urge to blatantly collapse. He was so tired, he didn’t sign up for this. Eyes drifted shut. This was horrible. Barely a being for twelve hours and he’d already been verbally assaulted by someone he thought he could trust<span>—</span>he hoped it didn’t become a pattern.</p><p> </p><p>With his eyes shut, a comfortable fog settled over him, leading him towards sleep.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>So there was the feral, cornered animal fear Sapnap recognized, hiding behind an enderman-like stare. Faded now, but that image of frost spreading from the ground beneath his friend’s ghost was still glued to the back of his eyelids, the horrible screech still ringing in his ears, George’s shout of pain after being scratched, the way both of them moved on instinct the way they had dozens of times before to restrain Dream from hurting himself.</p><p> </p><p>George was never going to let him hear the end of this. He could hear it already, in George’s judging stare as he wordlessly passed the mask to him. He could see it in the way he stood up and practically stormed over to where he stood, murder in his clenched fists.</p><p> </p><p>“You are <em> such an-! </em>” George spat through gritted teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“Asshole?” Sap finished for him. George nodded, initial anger melting into worry. They stood in silence for a moment, each piecing together their respective thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>What did they even <em> do </em> with him? No one had liked Dream, and if Sapnap’s immediate impulse had been to just <em> explode </em> at the ghost, what would someone who only ever knew him as a nightmare do?</p><p> </p><p>What would happen if someone tried to kill a ghost?</p><p> </p><p>A hand was placed on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>His best friend was looking up at him, questions in his eyes. “I have no goddamn clue what to do, man,” he whispered, eyes still locked on the slumped form across from them.</p><p> </p><p>“Should we take him to Ghostbur?” George suggested, “Could he help him?”</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, man, I don’t think they’re the same type of ghost. Did you <em> see </em> what he just did? He just screamed then the whole area was cold, like frost and everything, and he <em> attacked </em> you, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, better question: Do <em> you </em> have any ideas?”</p><p> </p><p>Did he? Gaze shifted from George over to Dream.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap could barely bring himself to look into Dream’s eyes, even if they weren’t staring back. They were so <em> dead </em> . It sounded stupid, even to himself<span>—</span>of course a ghost’s eyes would be lifeless, they weren’t alive. But Ghostbur’s eyes were so <em> lively </em>. Every time he’d interacted with Wilbur’s ghost, he acted so blissfully unaware, ignorant to the horrible status of the world he lived in. Dream’s ghost couldn’t be more different. He seemed so painfully aware, as though he had every piece of the puzzle but didn’t know what he was putting together. His eyes were iced over, even when unfocused and staring at the sky.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think…” he started, “Do you think Dream’s in there?”</p><p> </p><p>Every moment longer he looked, the more things seemed out of place about him, the less he seemed to be the same Dream that had used and abused almost every person on the server. He looked so defeated, staring blankly forward and slumped back against the trunk of a tree. A dried trail of blood fell from a large gash on his forehead, winding down his face like a river down a mountain, disappearing where it met his jawline. He looked so powerless.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t quite the Dream from the early summer, either. On top of his eyes being matte, his hair wasn’t quite the same shade of blond<span>—</span>it was so much duller, leaning far closer to brown. He overall looked like a wreck, like he’d been trudging blindly through the world for days on end. His bun was practically falling off his head from how loose it was<span>—</span>he’d never been good at tying his hair up, but that just meant <em> messy </em>, not loose. It wasn’t like Dream to let himself look like a walking disaster when he considered himself a force of nature.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap glanced to George, who was similarly staring at the zoned-out ghost. “I don’t know,” his friend replied hoarsely.</p><p> </p><p>They sat in silence, watching Dream. His eyes fluttered open and shut, as though he was struggling to keep them open. He settled on letting them close, before completely slumping back<span>—</span>asleep, probably. Did ghosts even need to sleep? He’d never seen Ghostbur sleep, but then again he wasn’t the ghost’s caretaker.</p><p> </p><p>He looked so peaceful. He never thought he’d be using the word <em> peaceful </em> to describe anything to do with Dream, but there he was, slumped and asleep. He almost wondered, if they found Dream’s body out in the cold, would he look like that? Huddled beneath the shelter of a tree, snow building up around him and trapping him with nothing but ice for company?</p><p> </p><p>The thought elicited a foreign twist in his gut, so he dropped it.</p><p> </p><p>A glance was cast upwards as the sky continued to darken, rain quickly threatening. “George, we should probably get Dream inside somewhere.”</p><p> </p><p>George nodded, walking over to put Dream’s mask back onto him. “My house isn’t far, plus I have some supplies there to clean him up.” A glance was paid to the blood on Dream’s face, and he couldn’t help but scoff.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you <em> seriously </em> think you can get blood off a ghost?”</p><p> </p><p>With a soft click, the ghost’s face was once again obscured. “I want to <em> try, </em> it’s so… I just can’t look at him like that,” his friend replied, words hiding a mountain of hurt. George never did like the sight of blood, especially when it decorated his friends. He and Dream used to tease him for it, <em> ‘Why are you a medic if you hate blood so much?’ </em> and every time his answer was a shrug. “Can you carry him? I’ll block us with my shield.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap quickly agreed, and in one smooth motion he scooped Dream into his arms. The walk to George’s home in a hill was uneventful, time passing with little to say besides George cautioning him on where he was walking. “If you drop him, I’ll drop <em> you </em> into the <em> sun </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, you act like I haven’t carried his sorry ass around like this before.”</p><p> </p><p>Once arriving at the house, he carefully placed Dream down onto George’s bed<span>—</span>there wasn’t a much better place for him, especially in this tiny space. The word <em> peaceful </em> came back to mind as he watched Dream shuffle himself into a comfortable position in his sleep, the muffled sound of rain starting to fill his ears.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap sighed, reaching to take a chair from the make-shift kitchen and sit beside the bed. At the sound of chests being opened and closed, he turned his head to look at George as he dug around for… something, he didn’t know. It wasn’t really his job to know. “So uh, any new ideas?”</p><p> </p><p>His friend shrugged, pulling his glasses up onto his head as he walked over with a small assortment of items. “I still think getting Dream and Ghostbur to talk might do something. Maybe not any like, <em> big </em>revelations about him, but like. I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t know. </em> He could get behind that. With no better ideas himself, he nodded and looked back to Dream. Asleep. “We should probably wait until later, when the rain stops.”</p><p> </p><p>George nodded in turn. They had a plan now, and that was more than they had before.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. the same but different</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Adding onto the list of things he didn’t like, Dream <em> distinctly </em> didn’t like being without his mask. The world was simultaneously too clear and covered in a layer of protective film. His thoughts were scattered, his brain felt like cotton soaked in bubbling acid. The longer he went without it, the more he felt like he was grasping at static.</p><p> </p><p>When he’d woken up, Sapnap was already gone and George was fiddling with medical supplies next to the bed. “Oh, Dream! You’re up.”</p><p> </p><p>George then politely requested<span>—</span>interpreted as <em> ordered </em><span>—</span>that he took his mask off, saying he wanted to try to scrub the frozen blood off his face. He must’ve sat there for an hour, George rubbing at the tracks down his forehead and cheek with a peroxide soaked cloth, fuzz slowly enveloping his mind as though his brain was falling asleep the way his limbs were.</p><p> </p><p>But George had insisted he kept his mask off, “Just another minute Dream, I can’t tell if this blood is <em> actually </em> coming off or not.”</p><p> </p><p>He was getting sick of George’s antics at this point, and he couldn’t tell if it was the familiar stranger’s attempt to cheer him up or if he <em> actually thought </em> he could wash blood off of a ghost.</p><p> </p><p>“George, seriously, please stop. I just want to put my mask back on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, ok! Fine!” George dropped the rag from his hands, letting it fall limp to the ground and gesturing in exaggerated defeat. “I <em> guess </em> it’s just part of your appearance now.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream quickly pulled the mask over his face, blinking a few times as he was initially welcomed by blackness. With each blink, the darkness faded and was replaced by the sight of his surroundings. <em> Didn’t know it did that, alright then. </em> At least the static that had wrapped it’s fuzzy fingers around his brain was fading.</p><p> </p><p>Time passed in peaceful quiet. Dream however was restless, sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers digging into it. The silence felt deafening, and he was inches away from standing on still-unsteady legs to pace the room when George spoke up.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream was caught off-guard, staring blankly forward at the man standing in front of him. “What? What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>George repeated himself, “What do you remember?” taking his time over each word. All Dream could do was stare back.</p><p> </p><p>“That- I-” He fumbled over his words, the question still yet to fully sink in. “What kind of stupid question is ‘What do you remember?’”</p><p> </p><p>Not seeing his friend’s still obvious confusion<span>—</span>or maybe he did and was electing to ignore it<span>—</span>George shrugged. “It’s a question. Do you want to answer?”</p><p> </p><p>He stared back emptily, vaguely gesturing to <em> elaborate, please. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Well… Let’s see. Do you know who I am?” He opened his mouth to parrot his name back to him when he was stopped, “More than just my name and what you can see in this room.”</p><p> </p><p>Damn. There went half of his sentence. “Uhh…You’re- You… I…” Every attempt to turn his thoughts into words floundered. He <em> knew </em> who George was. He knew, he swore he knew, it was just out of reach. “I feel like.. Like I’m <em> supposed </em>to know who you are, but… I just… I can’t place it.”</p><p> </p><p>George smiled. “<em> That </em> is something. We’re getting somewhere.”</p><p> </p><p>As if on cue, the door creaked open, and in stepped Sapnap, and at his side stood-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That man. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He knew that man. In the same way George and Sapnap’s silhouettes were burned into the back of his eyelids with sunlight, <em> his </em> was outlined in venom and ripped to shreds. The longer the two stared at each other, the harder it got to fight his impulse to <em> set that damned traitor on fire </em>.</p><p> </p><p>It melted to indifference when they gasped, eyes lighting up with recognition. “Dream, it’s so good to see you!” The other ghost dropped the books he was holding onto the closest surface<span>—</span>on top of a chest<span>—</span>and floated closer. “I was wondering why you never showed up to Logstedshire. It’s cause you’re dead!”</p><p> </p><p>The other’s chipper tone took him aback. What was he so happy for? “But nevermind that, how’re you doing Dream? Do you want some blue for your troubles?” The ghost dug into his pockets, producing a lump of glass stained blue. Dream hesitantly reached out to take it, letting it sit in his palm, and was instantly entranced by the way the color began to swirl and darken beneath the surface. The other ghost chuckled. “You seem sad, Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>He looked up, meeting those bright eyes before flicking to the other two who had stepped back, standing against the opposite wall and watching. They might as well have left a cat alone with a mouse.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream, c’mon man, where’s that sharp tongue of yours at?”</p><p> </p><p>Eyes switched between the “blue” in his palm, the ghost in front of him, and his “friends” on the other side of the room. He’d never felt more clueless.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream?”</p><p> </p><p>“I- uh. What?” was all he managed to spit out, still baffled by this strange other ghost’s unusually chipper nature.</p><p> </p><p>“Ohh, I get it!” he replied, turning around for a moment to share a look with Sapnap and George, “He doesn’t know who I am, does he?” They nodded, and he whipped back around to face him. “Dream, Dream, Dream! Welcome to the amnesiac club!”</p><p> </p><p>His head tilted, hands fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “Amnesiac cl- there’s a club?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m the humble president<span>—</span>and only current member<span>—</span>of the amnesiac club! But you make two. I’m Ghostbur.”</p><p> </p><p>Every word that came from their mouth only confused him more. He looked this supposed “Ghostbur” up and down, and while the only emotion he could find was bitter hatred, he couldn’t find a single reason to hate him. </p><p> </p><p>The other ghost sat down, taking the chair George had been sitting in earlier. “Now, tell me Dream,” he began, voice taking on a whispering tone with none of the lessened volume, “How’d you die, my friend?”</p><p> </p><p><em> How did he die? </em> The air around him chilled, and he leaned back towards the wall. <em> How did he die? </em> Arms moved to wrap around himself, heart sinking in his chest. <em> How did he die? </em> “Alone,” he spat, “Alone and cold.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur inquisitively hummed, standing to go grab one of the books and fumbling for a pen from his pocket before returning. “Oh, how interesting! My father stabbed me through the heart.”</p><p> </p><p>Was this small talk or impromptu group therapy?</p><p> </p><p>Several minutes passed of similar questions and answers. Ghostbur would spit out some odd statement or inquiry, and Dream would give his heavily guarded answer as he held back from trying to strangle him, and Ghostbur would write down his response. Every inch of his being wanted the other <em> gone, </em> out of his sight, never to be seen again. </p><p> </p><p>The longer they talked, however, the easier it got. The ice in his lungs melted, replaced by stone after stone of “blue.” They talked in circles, and Dream was almost starting to tolerate the other ghost when he raised a new, unpleasant topic.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream, can I ask you a question? Well, maybe not a <em> question </em> but-”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve asked like twenty already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we compare like, ghostly ability?”</p><p> </p><p>He stared back blankly. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“We haven’t talked about being ghosts with each other, Dream! We’re the only two on the server, and I think we should figure out how we’re different!”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur’s elaboration was equally as meaningless and confusing. Talk about being ghosts? “I guess,” he replied quietly, unease seeping into his tone, “Uh, you- you go first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, of course! Let’s see, where to start…” Ghostbur thought for a moment, the only second of silence he’d been graced with since they showed up. “For one, rain and snow hurts. I can’t go out or I’ll melt. Er, not <em> melt, </em> I kind of sizzle. It still hurts a bit, though. Do you do something similar?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s gaze once again flicked to George and Sapnap, then to Ghostbur and his book. There was a definite harm in saying it, but lying or avoiding was useless and would probably lead to confrontations down the line. He already knew what comparisons the others were going to make. “I, uh, I burn in the sun.”</p><p> </p><p>The silence that overtook the room was deafening.</p><p> </p><p>“Like a zombie,” he heard Sapnap mutter, and the confirmation of his prediction made his heart sink.</p><p> </p><p>Cheery as ever, Ghostbur scribbled it down. “‘Burn<span>—</span>like<span>—</span>a<span>—</span>zombie.’ Got it! Ok, what else? Can you touch things without trying?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream attempted to interrupt, to insist <em> ‘No I don’t burn ‘like a zombie’, I don’t even know why,’ </em> but the other ghost had already moved on, leaving him to flounder. He uttered a quiet, “Yes,” to which Ghostbur gasped in shock and proceeded to demonstrate letting a book physically fall through him. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you <em> are </em> a zombie, Dream,” Ghostbur suggested, “I mean, you’re only a <em> little </em> transparent, in fact I personally can’t really see through you at all, but maybe that’s the lighting.”</p><p> </p><p>He’d already started sputtering out countless <em> no </em>’s when Sapnap once again grabbed the ghost’s arm. “Ok, Ghostbur, get your blank books and let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why? We’re in the middle of a lovely conversation!”</p><p> </p><p>George stepped over, taking the book he’d been writing in. “It might start raining again, Ghostbur, and we don’t really want you spending the night. Dream sleeps with his mask off, right Dream?” The other looked at him expectantly, exposed eyes asking for a <em> yes </em>. He nodded. If it meant the weird ghost left, it meant he left. “See? I’ll lead you home, actually. Sapnap, you can stay here with Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur defended himself with, “But- But we don’t even need to sleep!” only to be quickly rebutted by George taking his arm and leading him out.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you and Dream aren’t exactly alike now, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Soon, George disappeared behind the closed door, complaining ghost in tow. Dream fished into his hoodie pocket, looking at the several stones of “blue” he’d been given. In the time they’d been sitting there, the oldest had darkened to be nearly black, and the longer he held the others the darker they began to swirl. Interesting.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure how many minutes passed of him staring into the swirling colors, wondering why. Ghostbur saw it and said he must’ve been sad, but in his own opinion he was lost. The name <em> Logstedshire </em> elicited images of explosions and vague memories of heat, but nothing more. Ghostbur mentioned it so casually, as though it was something that he would know about.</p><p> </p><p>Dream tried to think, to remember anything about anything, but all that came up was empty space. Empty space in the shape of things done wrong<em><span>—</span>countless </em> things done wrong<span>—</span>but not a single one had definition to it. Empty space in the shape of betrayal and hurt and <em> I did it because I care, you could’ve gotten hurt </em> and <em> Just say you hate me. </em> His own heart had no shape, strings reaching out from itself that tried to tie the empty spaces together but fell limp with nothing to grab.</p><p> </p><p>He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sight of Sapnap approaching, something he couldn’t identify in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap,” he said, wordlessly asking, <em> ‘What exactly are you doing?’ </em></p><p> </p><p>Sapnap raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just wanna fix your hair, man.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. different but the same</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter runs (mostly) parallel to the previous.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ghostbur, I have a favor to ask of you.”</p><p> </p><p>He found the ghost in his library under L’manburg, sorting through his books. Upon his appearance, they all fell through his hands and landed with a soft <em> thud </em> onto the stone floor. “Ooh, Sapnap! How lovely to see you here! What can I help you with?”</p><p> </p><p>A hand fell to his sword, staring down the ghost with a haunt of pain in his gaze. “I need you to come with me,” he ordered, eyes peering around the corner to see a green robe, “And Phil can’t come.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whaat, why not? Philza Minecraft won’t do anything he isn’t supposed to, right Phil?” Ghostbur’s very image deflated at the idea of not being able to bring his father along. Phil looked suspicious of it as well<span>—</span>maybe more suspicious of the poorly hidden pain in Sapnap’s eyes<span>—</span>but all it took was one fiery glare from the warrior to keep the old man’s mouth shut.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be fine, Ghostbur,” Philza whispered, “Just go with Sapnap, and try to listen to him.”</p><p> </p><p>While the two shared worried looks and hushed concerns, all Sap could think of was the peacefully sleeping Dream. Had he not fallen off L’manburg’s floating path and into the crater below on the way there, he would’ve assumed this was fake by now. It didn’t make sense why Dream got to come back as a ghost<span>—</span>he’d done worse than Schlatt and Wilbur combined, and only one of them still wandered the SMP. At least Wilbur had been redeemable, and Ghostbur was harmless<span>—</span>Dream had lashed out at the first sign of danger.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap emptily fiddled with the handle of his sword, awareness of his surroundings dropping as fire built up in his chest. Why was he doing this? Why was he letting George shelter the ghost of the worst person either of them had ever known? Because once upon a time he’d been their <em> friend </em>? Past friendships didn’t fix current mistakes. The fire nearly consumed him, lost in his own roaring blaze.</p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap, are you there, mate?” </p><p> </p><p>Philza’s voice dragged him out of his burning thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>“Phil, I think he’s having an intense internal monologue!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur- you know what, leave him to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here, I’m here, sorry,” he sputtered, hand dropping from his sword to run through his hair. “Ghostbur, grab some blank books then we’ve gotta go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohh, of course! Anything for the narrator!”</p><p> </p><p>“Psh, yeah ok.” Once the ghost had a few books in his grasp, Sap took his arm and started guiding him to George’s house.</p><p> </p><p>Thoughts kept wandering back to the wildfire that was his emotions, no matter how hard he tried to steer them away. Dream didn’t deserve a second chance at life as a ghost, yet here he was. Sapnap didn’t want to have anything to do with Dream’s ghost, yet here he was. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to face the possibility of being stuck with a Dream who didn’t even remember who he was. He’d take a Dream that threw him away over that any day.</p><p> </p><p>The entire walk to George’s house, Ghostbur wouldn’t stop talking. About what, he wasn’t paying attention, he just knew a nonstop stream of words was flowing from the other’s mouth. He was relieved there was a second of silence upon opening the door. For a moment, he thought they’d intruded. George was standing not far from the bed where Dream sat, half-turned to the open door, and he swore he could still hear the echo of his last sentence.</p><p> </p><p>The moment Ghostbur and Dream locked eyes, the temperature in the room dropped.</p><p> </p><p>The contrast between the two couldn’t have been more obvious in that moment as they stared at each other. Ghostbur, ever so cheery and happy to see anyone, immediately started talking again. Every muscle in Dream’s body tensed, fingers digging into the bed with enough force to leave his knuckles white. He looked poised to gut the other ghost with his bare hands.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap backed towards the wall of chests, George joining him to watch. The two ghosts exchanged tense words<span>—</span>well, <em> Dream </em> exchanged tense words, Ghostbur was as bubbly and ignorant to the tone of the room as ever. For the most part, he zoned out of their conversation, until Ghostbur started coaxing <em> actual </em> information out of Dream: their differences as ghosts.</p><p> </p><p>Dream burnt in the sun. “Like a zombie,” he muttered. He felt George’s angry stare burn into his head.</p><p> </p><p>“‘Burn<span>—</span>like<span>—</span>a<span>—</span>zombie.’ Got it! Ok, what else? Can you touch things without trying?”</p><p> </p><p>He was stuck on the comparison. It made complete sense in his mind. Maybe not a zombie exactly, but something similar. But if he was a zombie, then...</p><p> </p><p>The idea was shut down immediately as Ghostbur made the statement out loud, spurring Dream to try and rebut him by drowning out further words with <em> no </em>’s. </p><p> </p><p>Fearing the ghost would strike a wrong nerve, he walked over and hoisted Ghostbur to stand. “Ok, Ghostbur, get your blank books and let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why? We’re in the middle of a lovely conversation!”</p><p> </p><p>George joined in, walking over and taking the book from Ghostbur’s hands. “It might start raining again, Ghostbur, and we don’t really want you spending the night. Dream sleeps with his mask off, right Dream?” George looked over to said ghost, who nodded in frantic agreement. “See? I’ll lead you home, actually. Sapnap, you can stay here with Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>As George escorted the complaining Ghostbur out, he looked to the still-tense Dream. The air still felt colder than it needed to be, but it slowly rose as Dream dug into his pockets to fish out the countless pieces of blue he’d been handed. </p><p> </p><p>They were practically black. He didn’t enjoy that implication.</p><p> </p><p>He awkwardly stood in the center of the room, weight shifting from foot to foot. It wasn’t his place to ask Dream if he was ok<span>—</span>he doubted he’d even get an honest answer. With no good ideas on what to talk about, he started fishing through drawers for hair ties. He knew George kept them, as did he. Their spars often ended with Dream’s hair falling out of it’s bun, either someone grabbing it and forcing it down in an attempt to blind him with his own hair or the tie would snap at an inopportune time; Dream rarely had extra on him, so Sap and George alike learned to carry extra. The little things they’d done for Dream, even as he lost himself.</p><p> </p><p>He felt Dream’s gaze bore through him as he approached, coming from the kitchen with a few hair ties in his hand. “Sapnap,” he said, more of a question than anything else.</p><p> </p><p>He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just wanna fix your hair, man,” he muttered, only to be met with a tightening grip on the bed and a tilted head. For a moment, he recognized the Dream who a little over a week ago called him and his friends terrorists.</p><p> </p><p>It only took a moment for the defense to weaken, head drooping to<span>—</span>presumably<span>—</span>stare at the ground. He almost pitied the ghost. Dream sighed, defeated, blue-tinted hands reaching up to first remove his mask, then pull the tie from his hair. </p><p> </p><p>He definitely pitied Dream now, too tired to be bothered fighting, even over something as trivial as letting someone else tie his hair up.</p><p> </p><p>He hesitantly found himself on the bed next to Dream, fingers gently running through the knots in his friend’s hair. In that moment, the ice in Dream’s veins was more obvious than ever<span>—</span>even his <em> hair </em> was cold, frost permanently settled in it. He’d sweep the snow off, only for it to return within a moment as though he was a walking snowstorm. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t let him do this since gods knew how long ago, when he was too injured from a fight to do it himself.  If he remembered right, the asshole that challenged him had rigged the ground with TNT then lit “one piece” on the surface, setting off a chain of explosions that left Dream a bloody and battered mess that barely got away with his life. His arms had been too weak for nearly a month afterwards to even hold a sword, let alone reach behind his head to tie his hair, and it’d fallen to Sapnap to do it for him. </p><p> </p><p>Back then, they’d just been kids. A band of teens wandering the world, hopping from server to server, just trying to live their lives. They picked up more along the way<span>—</span>people like Bad, Callahan, and Sam<span>—</span>but at the end of the day, it’d always been the three of them. The Dream Team. Them against the world.</p><p> </p><p>He missed those days.</p><p> </p><p>With a simple wrap of his hand, his once-friend’s barely-blond hair was secured. He leaned away, waiting for Dream to put his mask back on. When he didn’t, he awkwardly shuffled further down the bed to give him space<span>—</span>maybe he didn’t have enough to reach around. Still no movement to put it on. He looked at him, at the way his shoulders slumped forward, the loose grip he held on his mask, and finally to the lost expression on his face.</p><p> </p><p>He barely got out the first words of, ‘<em> Are you good there, man?’ </em> when Dream spoke up first. “Sapnap, was I a bad guy?”</p><p> </p><p>If the question alone hadn’t sent him reeling<span>—</span>spoken with genuine hurt and confusion<span>—</span>the way he turned to look at him certainly did. For a moment, he just drank in Dream’s expression. Blue replaced pink in his skin, leading his flushed face to look as though he was freezing to death all over again. Tears were threatening the corners of his eyes, eyebrows drawn together and bottom lip twitching. He might as well have started crying, but he knew Dream. Dream and his enormous self-control that looked ready to snap at any moment.</p><p> </p><p>“I- uh, well.” He cleared his throat, stalling while he tried to find an answer that wouldn’t hurt him. “Depends on who you’re asking. You <em> did </em> kind of exile a kid for no reason, you’ve tried to kill me for real a few times, uh-”</p><p> </p><p>“Sapnap,” Dream cut him off, “I can’t remember anything.”</p><p> </p><p>The break in his voice shattered his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He turned to look at the mask he weakly held in his lap, his smile betraying the tears in his eyes. “I don’t even know what I need this for!” He emptily tossed it onto the ground, looking back to Sapnap. “You probably know more about me than I do.</p><p> </p><p>“And- and I don’t know who you are, but I feel like I should, like a dream you swear you’ve had before but can’t remember. I know you’re important, that I’d do anything for you and George, but I don’t know why and-”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap suddenly pulled Dream into a hug, clearly catching the other off-guard. “Dude, for once in your life, shut up.” It took a moment, but Dream melted into the embrace, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as his friend’s resolve broke, quietly sobbing into his shoulder. The ghost’s tears were cold on his skin, but he would deal with it.</p><p> </p><p>He knew Dream. He knew how much it took, how many internal hurdles he must’ve tripped over to even bear saying a fraction of what he’d said. Even if it wasn’t the same Dream who he’d fought the world with, or the Dream that cast everyone aside in some self-fulfilling journey to have the entire server do his bidding, it was still Dream. The tough, heavily guarded Dream he’d practically grown up with, who he and George would battle tooth and nail with to admit he was even <em> tired </em> , to admit that he couldn’t do something after trying a hundred times, to just sit down and <em> listen to us, goddamnit. </em> </p><p> </p><p>At the end of the day, he was Dream, and Dream was his brother through trial by fire, and he’d fight the world if it meant he was safe and ok.</p><p> </p><p>Dream mumbled something incoherent into his shoulder, and at his lack of response, pulled away to repeat himself, “Will you... Will you tell me stories? About myself?” His matte eyes were so full of tears, of loss, swimming in confusion, that the thought of refusing didn’t even cross his mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, dude, of course,” he replied quietly, a hand reaching to cup Dream’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“The good and the bad.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap nodded. “I’ll tell you what I know. George can tell some, too.”</p><p> </p><p>His thumb gently ran over Dream’s cheek, and his weak smile solidified what he already knew<span>—</span>that even if no one else on the server would accept him, Dream had a home with him and George. Even if it meant being nomads again, as long as the three of them were together, they were home.</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s hands reached up to hold Sapnap’s, pressing it into his face like a cat bumping it’s head into your leg. He never wanted to lose Dream again.</p><p><br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for reading! im not positive i want to continue from here, so i've marked it as complete. :)</p><p>if you have any questions/want any sort of clarification, reach out to me on twitter, @Corvid404, i'll be happy to answer almost everything. again, thank you for reading and consider leaving a comment, it truly means a lot!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. what now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i've decided i'll be continuing this story to the ending i had originally written! total number of chapters is subject to change in the future as i continue to write.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream pressed his face back into Sapnap’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him as he continued to sniffle and try to bury the horrible flood of thoughts that insisted he’d been irredeemable, unworthy of a second shot at life. His friend’s warmth, not that long ago an unbearable heat that seared to even look at, was now a comforting presence. The two sat in silence, ice and fire, their arms wrapped around each other. The quiet worked wonders on Dream’s raw nerves, focusing on the quiet rhythm of Sapnap’s breathing to distract himself from the hyper awareness of everything else around him.</p><p> </p><p>After what felt like hours—what was probably a few minutes—he felt his friend shuffle beneath his grasp and he realized just how awkward a position they were in. Each were sitting on the bed, Sapnap trying to keep his boots off the sheets while still trying to face him. Despite not quite being ready to let go, Dream pulled himself away. It was easier to stuff down his thoughts if the walls around them weren’t being melted. He raised a hand raised up to his cheek to wipe at the ice trails his tears left behind, blinking when blood came away with it.</p><p> </p><p>Ok then. There was another revelation he wasn’t in any emotional state to process. He felt Sapnap reach over and attempt to replicate, pulling his hand back to see nothing came away. Dream zoned out, staring at the blood smear on his palm and thumb. Great. This was <em> great. </em> He didn’t even understand the revelation, but it certainly was one and he didn’t want to be the person who figured out what it meant. He sighed, turning himself so when he dropped back onto the bed his head would land on the pillow, audibly groaning as the static returned.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck my life,” he grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. Hearing Sapnap snicker, he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s so fun-” Oh. Right. He was dead. He didn’t have a life to ‘fuck.’ An exasperated sigh left his lungs, and he nearly repteaded the sentence before he caught himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Dream, I mean this in the kindest way possible,” Sapnap said, leaning down to pick Dream’s mask off the floor, “You’re a dumbass.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffed, using an arm to drape over his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, ok. Says the guy who I definitely remember is an idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>At his friend’s stunned silence, Dream let out a laugh, quickly sitting up as saliva caught in his throat and threatened to choke him. “That’s not funny, Dream,” he heard Sapnap mutter, which only earned further wheezing laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Dream?” Sapnap started, tone a far cry from his own bubbling laughter. </p><p> </p><p>He reached to take his mask from Sapnap’s hands. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really… do you really remember me as something?”</p><p> </p><p>Now was his turn to stare in stunned silence. Wide eyes met his, confusion passing between them. Did he?</p><p> </p><p>“What do you remember me as?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream thought for a moment, trying to string whatever scattered pieces he could into something coherent. There wasn’t much, but the more he tugged on the strings, the more he managed to find, as formless and vague and drowning in static as it was. “You’re like… sunshine. Bright golden sun. And… you’re bold.” He could see Sapnap’s ego inflating the more he talked, but every word was genuine. “A bonfire with too much fuel. And uh, hot.”</p><p> </p><p>Sap’s eyes lit up, mood instantly shifting from cautious curiosity to triumph. A hand flew up to cover his face, faking embarrassment. “Aww, Dreamie just called me hot!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not hot like that, dumbass!” He half-heartedly punched his friend’s shoulder. “A hot-headed <em> idiot </em> . Hot like <em> fire, </em> like if I touch you you’ll burn my hand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh, so I burn you, huh, ice-boy?” he teased.</p><p> </p><p>Dream rolled his eyes, muffling laughter. “Shut the fuck up.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ok, Dream, you can just admit that I’m incredibly attractive and like, way hotter than George.”</p><p> </p><p>Several minutes passed of passing laughter back and forth, the fuzz in Dream’s brain growing, and his focus threatened to leave. Still, it felt nice to just share looks with his friend, each other’s expressions pulling more laughter when they thought they’d finally settled. He forgot what they were laughing about, just that the sound was playful magic.</p><p> </p><p>Once they both calmed for good, he looked into his friend’s eyes. The wildfire that’d overwhelmed him before was a playful, harmless candle now, swaying back and forth and casting dancing shadows on the wall. Maybe Dream wasn’t as bad as he remembered himself to be. Maybe he could have the same golden, sunlit silhouette as his friends did in his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Laughter was still winding down as George opened the door, rain dripping down his armor. He paid them little attention, walking over to his armor stand and chests to put his items away. Dream looked between him and Sapnap, snickering at his friend’s smirk when George leaned down to reach a lower chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Daaaamn, Gogy, I didn’t know you were bringing <em> cake </em> home.”</p><p> </p><p>At the unexpected comment, George’s head whipped around with an annoyed groan, doing little to help his case as now both Dream and Sapnap were cackling. “Sapnap! That’s disgusting!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ok, it’s kinda funny,” Dream added, and the embarrassed betrayal in his friend’s eyes lit a spark of joy in his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“It is <em> so </em> not.” </p><p> </p><p>“George, just accept that you have a massive dump truck,” Sapnap teased, standing and starting to walk towards George, a playful fire in his eyes that led the other to lean back against the chests protectively.</p><p> </p><p>“If you even <em> look </em>at my ass weird, I’m kicking you out.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap mumbled incoherently, backing up, fire extinguished. Dream watched quietly, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere, the way they knew each other’s intentions by the way they grinned and moved and the light in their eyes. It felt safe. It felt like home. </p><p> </p><p>“Speaking of kicking you out,” George started, “How’re we uh, gonna do that? Like, sleep. I don’t wanna let Dream out of my sight.”</p><p> </p><p>At mention of his name, he pulled his mask back on. This sounded like the start of an important conversation that he needed to dissipate the static for.</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap looked between the two of them, the playful fire in his eyes not entirely gone. “We could all always sleep in your bed, George.”</p><p> </p><p>George groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “What’s gotten <em> into you </em> today? That bed’s barely big enough for two people, let alone three, let alone Dream and his long ass legs!”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “Ok, so I’ll go grab Dream’s bed from his base and then put it next to yours, and we’ll all fit in that.”</p><p> </p><p>George stood still, speechless. “But- But why can’t you just go back with Karl and Quackity?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’d be suspicious if you didn’t go with him,” Dream piped up, “One of you goes back but not the other? Doesn’t make sense. It <em> would </em> make sense for you to move back in with each other after losing your mutual best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of his friends stared at him as if he grew a second head. The silence felt uneasy, unsteady in comparison to the humor of only a moment ago. Did he ruin it? Was everyone going to start crying again? The air felt thick, and he couldn’t breathe, and-</p><p> </p><p>George scoffed, crossing his arms in defeat. “Fine. Sapnap, you go get Dream’s old bed and we’ll sleep out here for the night.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap's eyes lit up. “In the same double bed?”</p><p> </p><p>George sighed. “Yes, but this isn’t a permanent arrangement!” His continuation was nearly drowned out by their friend’s triumphant shouts. “I’m going to build a new room in the back for us to sleep in, with <em> all separate beds.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“I GET TO SLEEP IN THE SAME BED AS GOGY AND DREAM FOR A NIGHT, LET’S GO!” Sapnap cheered, punching the air.</p><p> </p><p>Dream laughed watching the disparity between his two friends: one ecstatic at the opportunity to cuddle, the other still reeling from the comment towards his rear end a minute ago that was being stacked with Sapnap’s celebration.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as George opened his mouth to tell him to get on with himself, Sapnap was out the door, doing his best to muffle his joy. Once again, it was just George and Dream. He eyed over the other curiously, from the red and white bar in the center of his t-shirt to the white sunglasses over his eyes. It was strange attire, but he wasn’t one to judge with his permanently smiling mask.</p><p> </p><p>He must’ve been looking at him strangely, or George was just on-edge, because before he said anything George spoke up, “You can’t go with him.”</p><p> </p><p>The statement caught him off-guard. “I- I wasn’t going to ask?” </p><p> </p><p>His friend shook his head, taking off his sunglasses and placing them on the nearby crafting bench. “I’m not letting you leave this house for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>His heart sunk, blood chilling as the two met each other’s gazes. “What- wait, why?!”</p><p> </p><p>George sighed. “Dream, I don’t know if you remember, but you were <em> literally </em> the <em> worst </em> person on the server. If people see you’re still around in any capacity, they’re gonna want your head.”</p><p> </p><p>The room froze, and time stood still. Was he really that bad? Had he really been the worst person—the worst <em> thing </em>—to ever happen to the server? But… but they were all his friends. He wouldn’t hurt his friends. “How bad was I…” he muttered, gaze slowly dropping to examine the knots in the floorboards. </p><p> </p><p>A hand was placed on his shoulder, warmth spiraling out as Dream did his best to keep further tears at bay. He was over crying, this would make it the third time since he’d woken up less than a day ago.</p><p> </p><p>“You were bad,” George whispered, “But not... irredeemable. Not to us.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Not to us. </em> He could live with that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank you for continuing to read! leave a comment if you enjoyed, i really appreciate them &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. out of sight, out of mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>LIGHT TRIGGER WARNING: Panic attack.</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Life in George’s house was peaceful. Boring as hell, but peaceful. True to his word, George began construction on a back room to serve as a communal bedroom. For the sake of keeping suspicion low, there were only two beds—if Sapnap’s was a little bigger to accommodate for a certain six-foot-three ghost, no one was any wiser. Not that Dream felt the need to sleep, but laying in bed with his best friend’s arms around him often lulled him away anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Days were lazy. The first few had Dream hidden in the back while strangers filed in and out, offering apologies and gifts to his “grieving” friends. Were they truly grieving if they never technically lost him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few voices carried familiar tones, speech patterns that he could almost place among his broken web of memories if he could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>see their faces.</span>
  </em>
  <span> One day, when two men who’d begged to stay the night with Sapnap left, Dream had built up enough curiosity to ask: “When are you gonna stop treating me like a literal skeleton in your closet? I wanna meet people, y’know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George shrugged, sorting through the food that the two had left for them. “When we’re certain no one wants you banished for daring to be around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I didn’t choose to be around,” he snapped, “And besides, it’s not like I’m the Dream they all hate, anyway. I don’t even remember what I did to make them hate me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap and George ate their dinner in silence after that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once what felt like every server member had come by to say their peace, George and Sapnap started leaving the house. George first, he would wake with the sun and be home well past sunset. Sometimes his bag would be overflowing with potion ingredients and blocks, sometimes he’d just look battered and tired. Dream never asked, he didn’t want to—and besides, it wasn’t his business to intrude on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap woke later, or at least left bed later due to, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> having his arms wrapped around him. According to him, Dream slept, “With your arms thrown around me like I’m a big teddy bear. Not that I mind, it’s just kinda hard to escape. Your grip is </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sapnap didn’t always leave right away, or leave at all. He never seemed to go far when he did, his voice still echoing into the house, usually joined by the same two voices.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream spent his days… well. He spent his days. Most went by in a blur, with the only events telling one from the next being whether he was trapped in bed by static and ice or not. The days he wasn’t were calm: He woke up, spoke with Sapnap until he left, and did simple chores around the house—the least he could do for taking up so much of their energy was to keep things tidy. The days he didn’t get out of bed…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re horrible. You’re awful. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve their kindness, you don’t deserve their second chances. You shouldn’t be back here. You should’ve been sent to the Void for eternity but even that couldn’t pay for a fraction of what you’ve done. You don’t even remember what you’ve done but you could never repay it, could never be forgiven, it’d be better for everyone if you just disappeared. Just disappear. Just leave. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this you piece of shit. Piece of shit, piece of shit piece of dead fucking shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… he asked Sapnap to stay home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today was a quiet day. His mind wasn’t particularly loud beneath the mask, there weren’t too many dishes to be done, and his friends were both out and about. George left a few days prior to server-hop for a little while, and Sapnap was with the two people who he learned were Karl and Quackity—his fiances, apparently. That left Dream home alone. Not that he minded, of course not, he didn’t really need them around to have a good day. Not at all. No matter how much he missed them. He didn’t need them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He placed the last potion bottle onto the drying rack, sighing at the satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>clink</span>
  </em>
  <span> of glass against metal. He was debating tackling one of the chests to organize when his heart dropped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone was knocking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone was knocking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why would anyone be knocking? Why would they be coming to the house? No one was home. Dream practically tripped over his own feet as he threw himself into the bedroom, doing his best to make sure the door shut without a sound. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t even supposed to be a ghost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hellooo?” the knocker called,  “Sapnap? I know you’re home, muffinhead, just open the door.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh gods. Oh gods, he heard the door, he knew someone was home. Any sort of response died in his throat, ideas rapidly whirring through his head. He instantly reached into his pocket to fumble for his communicator, sending frantic messages to Sapnap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Knocks kept coming. “Sapnap, I’m worried, are you ok in there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was going to scream, this wasn’t supposed to happen. How didn’t they know that Sapnap wasn’t home? He could be heard from a mile away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sapnap?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The front door creaked open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream’s brain froze, body moving of its own accord to stumble back onto his bed. This wasn’t good. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> good. They’d figured out he was here, they were going to somehow kill him, they weren’t going to let the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghost </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the worst person any of them knew linger around for a day longer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He curled onto himself, back pressed against the corner of the headboard and wall. He heard the doorknob turn. This was it. Whoever this was wouldn’t give him a second chance. He couldn’t be redeemed. He was just a piece of shit and George and Sapnap were wasting their time on him-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sapnap couldn’t have asked for a better day. With his fiances by his side, the trio wandered the server doing nothing and everything. They hadn’t had a lot of chances before Dream’s passing to spend time together like this, what with being on different sides of a war none of them wanted. The last two weeks or so had gone by in a blur of days spent chilling in Party Park and El Rapids—the days Dream didn’t ask him to stay home, at least.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today was shaping up to be another relaxed day of exploring until his communicator buzzed in his pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream whispers to you: sapnap plea s help someone itaat the door and they’re askimg for you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream whispers to you: i dontg know who they are please coe back</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream whispers to you: theyre etnering the house theyre here please i dont know what todo</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. Shit. He glanced from the screen to the two men walking ahead of him, back to the screen, back to his fiances. They’d just turned around to keep dragging him along when he spun on his heel and started to leave with a barely audible, “Gotta go, sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, uh, Sapnap? Babe? Where do you think you’re going?” Karl asked, reaching a hand onto his as he tried to keep up with his rapid pace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something came up with uh… with George. Gotta get back to the house.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quackity spoke up as he reached to take Sapnap’s hand. “Hey man, we can come with ya, no need to blow us off for that dumbass </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gogy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All he could do was shake his head and keep walking. “Nah dudes, way too important.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turned to try and brush Karl’s hand off his shoulder, only to be met with soft puppy-dog eyes looking down into his, flooded with worry. He cast a glance over to Quackity, a similar level of concern in his expression. Maybe Quackity had a point—he didn’t have to blow them off </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sighed, deciding to compromise for them. “You guys can follow me back to the SMP, but you can’t come home with me. George’s new rules and all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After they made their quiet agreements, Sapnap continued back on the route home, still walking just a touch too fast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he planted his feet on SMP soil, his communicator buzzed again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BadBoyHalo whispers to you: Sapnap, I think we need to talk about something.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Goddamnit. Why had they tried to keep him from Bad of all people? With all due respect, he never </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be nosy, he just ended up in everyone’s business without fail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t necessarily Bad’s sake he was worried for—he wouldn’t be caught dead holding a sword to anyone, let alone Dream—it was more Dream’s sake. Paranoia and confusion seeped into everything he did, constantly glancing to the windows and pausing at odd times as though he forgot what he was doing. Combining them both with an unexpected visitor was surely a recipe for disaster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap did his best to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he approached the front door, ignoring how it was slightly ajar and how he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the frost on the windows before the icy air even hit his skin. If he pretended nothing was going horribly wrong, then he could steady his hands and settle his heart and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> go off on Bad for the crime of curiosity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With one final exhale, he swung the door open, the sight stealing the rest of the air from his lungs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frost laced the ground in delicate webs, spiralling out from the bedroom’s entrance, the door swung wide open. He couldn’t see Dream from his position, but he didn’t need to in order to know where he was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What scared him most were the wild scratches running up BadBoyHalo’s sleeves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, Bad, what did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him?!” he cried, rushing in to inspect for deeper cuts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad held out his arms, proving no true damage had been done. “He did- wait, what did </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> do? What about what </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> did?” He gestured around to the frost, breathing out visible puffs. “Sapnap, what’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing that his friend was uninjured, he moved to head into the bedroom only to be blocked by Bad. “Dream’s a ghost and you scared the shit out of him, that’s what,” he replied sharply, trying to step around only to continue to be intercepted. “Bad, get out of my way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad placed his hands on his shoulders, earning a fiery glare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Sapnap, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> letting you in there,” he ordered, “We’re both going outside and talking about this until Dream’s in control of himself again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flames in his chest roared to life, climbing up his throat as the two locked eyes. “Bad, this isn’t up for debate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out of my way.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he was any calmer, the look he was given would have been enough for him to instantly back down. Not today, though. Not when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dream needed his help, that no one else was around and no one else would listen to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad stood still, grip on his shoulders only tightening as he attempted to steer Sapnap out. “You can help him when he’s calmed down a bit, okay?” His tone was gentle, cutting through the thundering roar of flames in his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last, his feet unlocked themselves from their position on the floor as frost started to creep up onto them, and he was pushed out of the house. As soon as the door was shut behind them, he felt some of the heat dissipate. Not all of it, not by a long shot, but enough to take the edge off the roar in his head and allow him to think.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as his shoulders were let go of, he distanced himself from Bad. “So,” he started, immediately regretting how harsh his tone was, “What did you want? Before you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>let yourself in?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the way he recoiled, a hand instinctively reaching for his sword, Bad seemed on edge. “Sapnap, I…” He cleared his throat, straightening himself. “I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>going</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ask if you had any spare sand we could borrow to build our beach, but that’s besides the point now. Why is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream</span>
  </em>
  <span> in your house, and why is he… acting like that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you scared him, dipshit,” Bad barely got out a shout of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Language!</span>
  </em>
  <span> before Sapnap launched into his tirade, “Like, seriously! You didn’t even message me to see if I was home or not? You just walked in expecting someone to be there? Since when is </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> home during the day, Bad? That’s such bullshit, and- and it’s so dumb, and you fucking scared him so bad the house is cold and being covered in ice as we speak, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he’s doing right now, and- and- just- just fuck off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hot tears streamed down his face, and the distance between them never felt colder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friend stood across from him, arms limp at his sides. Secrets were one thing, something that everyone had these days, but hiding an entire ghost was something else entirely. When did they stop trusting each other with everything? When had Bad become a threat to him?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bad,” Sapnap's hand tightened around the handle of his sword as he struggled to hold his emotions in place, “If you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> of telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him before me </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> George say you can,” his gaze hardened, the fire in his chest threatening to spread into his blood and overtake him as he stared through Bad, “I will personally see to it that the Badlands are obliterated and all of you are run out of the server or killed in the process.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bad stepped away from him, eyebrows drawn together as he stared down. They stood in silence, trading determined rage and concern between their respective gazes. “Very well,” he eventually said. “Just… If you ever need my help, you don’t have to keep me out. I was his friend, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>With that, his friend turned and walked away, leaving him alone with an angry ghost. He was tempted to call out, to beg for Bad to stay, to help him, he needed </span><em><span>help</span></em> <em><span>goddamnit</span></em><span>, but the words  were stuck in his throat. “Fuck my life,” he grumbled, repressing the urge to either run into the forest and scream until his voice ran out or to run back to Quackity and Karl and cry and until his tears ran dry. He couldn’t do that. Not yet. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he once again entered the freezing house, he let out a shaky breath. Bad had a point: He didn’t need to block </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>out, other people had been their friends from the start. Careful steps guided him to the open bedroom door, wincing at the cold gusts blowing flurries into his face that melted on contact. Maybe Sam could help them, or Callahan, or both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at Dream, pressed into the corner between the headboard and the wall, curled in on himself. The entire bed was covered in a barely visible layer of frost—no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>snow</span>
  </em>
  <span>—that spiralled out from where he sat. His head was tucked behind his knees, arms wrapped around his legs. Beneath the sound of winds blowing in circles in the room, he could swear Dream was sobbing if the way his entire torso shook didn’t give it away on its own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gods, Dream,” he muttered, “What the hell?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. ice burns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS: Panic attack, major injury.</b> This is a mandatory rest stop. Chug some water, eat some food. Take care of yourself, readers!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>What happened after the bedroom door first opened was a blur of ice and wind. The air was too hot, he was choking he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe </span>
  <em>
    <span>he couldn’t breathe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He heard something, someone talking, but what they were saying didn’t make sense. All he knew was that he’d been found, and he was the worst thing to happen to this server, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>if that person took one more step towards him his existence was over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of roaring wind echoed in his ears, and he was vaguely aware of the stranger approaching him. He was fucked, he was fucked, he was completely and royally fucked. No one was home, no one was coming to help him, he was alone and he was going to fade from existence alone and cold and burning alive in this tiny little room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stranger’s hand reached towards him, a guttural, demonic </span>
  <em>
    <span>growl</span>
  </em>
  <span> filled the air, and he blacked out. The next thing he knew, his arms were being pried from around him by…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sapnap?” he croaked, barely registering the blinding pain that radiated from where his friend was holding him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The other blinked a few times, bloodshot eyes staring directly into his own. He was staring, he was staring he was staring</span>
  <em>
    <span> he was staring stop looking stop looking stop fucking looking-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His nails dug into Sapnap’s hands, desperately trying to shove him off him, shove him off the bed, anything to get him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop fucking looking.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His attempts were only met with a tighter grip, the sensation of </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning</span>
  </em>
  <span> spreading up his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream, Dream, hey, listen to me dumbass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care. He didn’t care stop fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching</span>
  </em>
  <span> him stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span> at him </span>
  <em>
    <span>get off of him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey man, stop- hey, no, quit wiggling around man, I’m trying to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can help by getting the fuck away from me,” he hissed, wincing as Sapnap’s grip only tightened around his wrists, “Shit that fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>burns,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sapnap, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let go of me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was hardly even looking at him, trying to force his friend’s grip to loosen in any way possible and failing miserably, but the smirk seeped into his reply of, “Nope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He paused, a growl dying in his chest. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did I stutter?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the time it took Dream to process what he heard, Sapnap managed to both pull the mask off his face and drag him into a hug. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this he didn’t want this </span>
  <em>
    <span>this fucking burned. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The tears frozen on his face immediately vaporized, turning to steam that only further hurt him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sapnap, I’m being serious,” he struggled to shove his friend away, “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>physically burning me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, and Technoblade has an elytra. You aren’t getting out of this hug.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream continued to squirm, struggling as his friend’s heat threatened to melt him. His head was rapidly filling with static, his vision was blurring at the edges as he struggled to stay awake through the all-encompassing </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Sap… Sapnap,” he slurred, tongue a wad of cotton in his mouth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last, his friend’s arms opened, and he limply fell backwards, head hitting the wall with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>thud</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-Dream?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘M fine,” he mumbled, smiling and raising his hands in a weak attempt to placate his friend, only succeeding in showing off the burn marks around his wrists as his sleeves fell down: harsh, angry blue marks that were already starting to blister. He was sure his face was a similar shade of light blue where his tear-tracks had evaporated.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap was saying something, but whatever it was was drowned out by the ringing that slowly overtook his hearing as his eyes fluttered shut. His last coherent thought as he slipped into restless unconsciousness was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap wished it wasn’t ingrained in his mind to never trust a word coming out of Dream’s mouth as he watched his best friend slump back against the wall, wincing at the sickening sound of his skull bouncing off the wood. It irked him even more how he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>respond </span>
  </em>
  <span>to it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-Dream?!” he stuttered, grasping desperately for anything to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream smiled back at him, an action that had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> based on the angry blue splotches on his cheeks. “‘M fine,” he replied, holding up his hands and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear gods his poor arms.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His wrists were wrapped in an angry and quickly blistering blue, and he could see the faintest print of someone else grabbing him—likely BadBoyHalo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If he burnt him that bad from just a few minutes of trying to restrain him </span>
  <em>
    <span>through his sleeves</span>
  </em>
  <span>, did that mean his entire chest was covered in burns? His back? Shit, he was an awful friend, wasn’t he? Bile creeped up his throat as he watched Dream’s eyes slowly blink shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, shit Dream stay awake, Dream stay awake, please dude don’t do me like this-!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream was already knocked out, chest unsteadily moving up and down with little rhythm to it. He supposed he shouldn’t be worried—he was a ghost, afterall, and ghost’s couldn’t die per-say. That didn’t mean ghosts couldn’t fade away if their vessel was damaged too much, the same way skeletons and zombies did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With no better ideas, Sapnap pulled his communicator out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You whisper to GeorgeNotFound: how soon can you get back? dream needs help asap</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a good few hours before George got home, having been in the middle of a server-hopping spree. When he got home his eyes shone with stories to tell, betraying the worry drawn onto his pout. Sap quickly explained the situation from top to bottom, from his day spent with his fiances all the way down to Dream passing out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first step was easy: Get Dream out of the bed and onto the couch. George grabbed his hand to ensure Sapnap wasn’t still being eaten alive by his own fire before he allowed him to pick Dream up. They covered the harsh material of the couch in any spare blankets they could find before transferring him to it from his bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second step wasn’t so easy: Inspecting the burns. George had done what must’ve been this exact operation years ago after the TNT spar Dream had gotten himself into, but back then Dream had been alive, and back then Dream didn’t care if his hoodie got cut in half for the sake of his treatment. Neither of them were sure if ghosts could wear clothing they hadn’t spawned in, either. Still, after far more effort than it should’ve taken, Dream’s hoodie was removed and his shirt was simply cut off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Treating the burns was easy—at least for Sapnap. He wasn’t the medic, he didn’t have to do anything other than hand George what he asked for and watch Dream breathe—that was apparently very important, watching for his breathing to regulate. It never truly did, the ghost’s chest shaking at odd intervals, occasionally inhaling sharply or suddenly exhaling all the air from his lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At several points throughout the process, Dream’s eyes would flutter open for a moment, the natural matteness of them making his blank, unseeing stare even more unsettling. When his hoodie was being pulled off his head, Dream slurred something along the lines of, “Ssstop, ‘urts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George simply shushed him and moved on as Sapnap’s heart stopped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the end of several tense hours that passed in silence, Dream laid on the couch with half his torso and the majority of his lower arms wrapped in bandages. George sat back in his chair, and as he rolled his shoulders Sapnap could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> his friend’s spine crack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I don’t think I’ve had to wrap so many injuries or anything since…” George trailed off, standing to further stretch out his arms and back, “Probably the TNT fight, before the SMP.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap nodded, eyes still locked on the rise and fall of Dream’s chest. By now it had settled quite a bit, still occasionally shuddering but overall it was fine. The sight still made him feel sick, his friend’s once gold-tinted skin now awash in pale gray and tinted with blues, but he’d swallowed that a few hours ago. This was just… how things were now, he supposed. His best friend, once a star that shone so bright it rivalled the sun, reduced to a pitiful hollow of who he had been. He couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch</span>
  </em>
  <span> sunlight for fuck’s sake, let alone rival it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah probably,” he mumbled in a half-hearted reply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George hummed inquisitively as he wandered towards his chest of potions and associated supplies. “Do you think he’d need a potion of instant damage or regen?” he asked, tone oddly blank of any genuine worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sapnap shrugged. “Dunno. We could-” The rest of his sentence died on his tongue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We could ask Bad or Sam, they’d know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And they would, because those two collectively knew more about the game than even Dream did in some ways. But that required not only telling them that Dream had a ghost hanging around, but also letting them meet him in a better setting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“George?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friend looked up from his chest with a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mmhm?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we should let Bad actually meet him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several potion bottles clattered to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” George snapped, “Unless I heard your story wrong, Bad gave Dream such a bad panic attack it fully triggered a dreamon response”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He struggled to keep the embers from igniting again. “Yeah, but that was because he showed up suddenly and uninvited.” He felt George’s gaze bore through him, trying to dissect where he’d pulled this apparently uncalled for thought from. “If we let Dream know exactly when to expect him, like when we brought in Ghostbur a few weeks ago, then he’d probably be more receptive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sat in suffocating silence for far longer than Sapnap was comfortable with, gazes locked. A million emotions flew by in his friend’s expression, all of them hovering around concern. “Fine,” George spat, picking his potion bottles off the floor. “We can also invite Sam, he’d know about the potions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sap’s eyes lit up. “Yes, yes ok awesome!” he replied, doing his best to keep his volume down. “I’ll message them in a bit to arrange a day and time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked at Dream, laying on the couch, and gently pulled one of the blankets over him. Dream was going to re-meet all of his best friends. They were going to be friends again—it wouldn’t be the same, but it wouldn’t have been if he were alive either. Things were going to be ok.</span>
</p>
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